


Imagine You and Me

by Helen8462



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: I promise!, Imagine You x Character doing something, Second Person Perspective, they're fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2018-12-16 05:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/pseuds/Helen8462
Summary: An ongoing series of "imagines" which put the reader in various situations where they interact with Voyager characters.  Each chapter is a new story.





	1. Chakotay - Massage

**Author's Note:**

> These were each prompted by kind followers over on Tumblr. If you'd like to request one from me, please visit me [on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jhelenoftrek) or shoot me an email jhelen8462@gmail.com. Thanks!
> 
> I am attempting to stay in canon for most of this, and i'm a J/C shipper at heart, so there will be hints and mentions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Chakotay giving you a neck and shoulder rub.

He starts as he always does, by guiding you to the chair that faces his viewport. 

 _Your_  viewport.  

It is still strange for you to think of it that way, even after all these months of watching the stars fly by alongside him.  And where once you might have insisted that his services were unnecessary, now you know better than to fight what he’s willing to offer.

“Rough day?” he asks you, his voice low and irrefutably laced with concern.

“You could say that,” you reply.  “But probably no worse than yours.”

You relax against the cushion and lean your head back into his hands.  His fingers slide through the softness of your hair and you hear his next breath drawn on a sigh.  

Your own lungs release, trembling in anticipation.

Warm fingers trail down, executing the perfect amount of pressure behind your ears, pausing there for a moment to massage away the tension that remains after an afternoon traversing the length and breadth of the ship via Jeffries tubes.  And then the memories of the day, along with your tension, begin to dissolve away.

The dim light in your quarters, combined with the emptiness of space beyond a pristine window allow for his reflection to be seen.  It is a secret thing - that you can watch him while he is so fixated on you - and you relish not only in the feeling of his deft fingers as they work down the sides of your neck, but in the pure look of pleasure on his face as he touches you, feels your soft skin, pliant and supple in his hands.

You cannot help the moan that escapes the back of your throat when he sweeps your hair to the side.

Because you know what comes next.  

Your eyes draw lightly to close as his strong palms begin to knead and press and work at your knots. He pays each one delicate attention, urging them back into relaxed tissue with practiced ability.  You barely notice when one hand leaves your skin to gather a slightly fragrant oil from a small bottle he has waiting on the table.

 _Eucalyptus,_ you think.   _My favorite_.  

The fragrance overtakes almost everything else.  

Almost.

Thumbs circling and pulling downward, he draws the spicy scent into your pores, working the balm with purposeful strokes straight into your trapezius then back up to draw against your clenched jaw.

And then.

_Lips._

There they are.

You’ve been expecting them.

Tracing the path where his hands have just been, his kiss lingers a trail along the top of your shoulder where your robe has been pushed to the side.  You can’t help but lean your head, encouraging him as he breathes deeply the intoxicating combination of perfume and shampoo and flesh.  

Though your eyes have been drifted pleasantly closed for a while now, you pull them open to watch his delight displayed against the dark mirror. You could have just as easily drifted off to sleep - some nights you do - but not tonight.

“Feeling better yet?” he asks, his voice now a growl, and a plea.

“Not as good as I could,” your response comes, choked and beckoning for more.

“Mmmm…” he moans, sending yet another shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Your hand snakes its way up your other arm and reaches his, fingers intertwined you guide him around until he is facing you.  The outline of his muscular form, back-lit by stars, blocks the reflection on which you had been so focused.

“Is it my turn yet?” you ask, knowing full well that it finally is.  

His smile is the perfect response as you rise - and then fall - relaxed and wanting into his arms. But before he can carry you away to your bed, you pause, looking deep into his eyes.  Your thumb traces a familiar path along his tattoo, then down to hook and cup his cheek.

He exhales, waits for you to answer his unspoken question.

“Here,” you breathe.

Because you want to see everything reflected in the inky, starry night.

 

 


	2. Janeway - Waking Up In Sickbay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Captain Janeway visiting you in sickbay, after you've been injured on your first away mission

“Welcome back,” you hear a soft voice say as the room spins into rightness around you.  

Bright, artificial light blinds your eyes and the voice orders for them to be dimmed quickly.  You try to sit up but you’re met with a hand pressed flat on your shoulder and you haven’t the strength to push against it.

“Captain?” you croak, seeing her blurry form come into shape.  Your lungs are burning still, and then you’re accosted with images from when you were last conscious.

_Fire.  Smoke._

_Oh, God.  The smoke._

It threatens to smother you again and you begin to gasp for air.

“Easy, Ensign,” you hear her say.  “Take slow, regular breaths.  The Doctor will be right back.”

You nod, pinching your eyes closed. And then you remember something else.

“My leg,” you whisper, and realize you can’t feel whether it’s still a part of you or if it’s been left behind on that god-awful planet.

“Your leg is just fine,” she reassures you.  “You’re going to be alright.”

Eyes now adjusted to their surroundings, you take in her face.  She looks tired, you realize.  Worry still strains her features though she’s trying hard to hide it.  

“The others?” you ask, softly.

“They’re all fine. You were the worst of them.”

“You weren’t injured?” you manage, noticing that she’s still wearing her scorched and dust-covered uniform jacket.

She shakes her head. You’re so focused on her face; her kind, gentle and tired eyes – that you don’t notice when the Doctor slips up beside you.  It is a surprise when you feel the cool hiss of a hypospray against your neck.

“That should help with the numbness you’re feeling in your legs,” he assures.

“When will the ensign be able to leave?” she asks on your behalf.

“Mmmm…” the Doctor ponders a moment, looking over the padd in his hand.  “A few more hours, but then no duty shifts for at least three days. We need to make sure those tendons heal properly.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she says.  Then she looks back down at you, her hand still on your shoulder.  “I’m sorry your first away mission didn’t go quite as we had planned.  I promise the next one will be better.”  You nod, still wondering why she’s here talking to you instead of on the bridge. “Rest up, and report to me in person when you’re ready to resume your shifts.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, pleasantly surprised that your voice is returning and no longer as painful. She takes your arm and gently assists you in sitting upright and hands you a cup of water.  

 _‘Chakotay to the captain,’_ you hear as you test a swallow.  

“Janeway here,” she says, tapping her badge with practiced ease.  

_‘Just checking on the ensign.  A few of us on the bridge wanted to be sure everything was alright.’_

“Just fine, Commander,” she says, throwing you a wink.  “Everything is just fine down here, you can all relax.”

_‘Good to hear, Captain.  And, I trust you’ll be getting some rest now too?’_

You’re trying not to look directly at her, instead focusing on your feet which are miraculously starting to feel like your own again.  Try as you might, you can’t help but steal a peek back to her face and then hear her voice hitch as she replies, “Yes, Commander.  I’m headed back to my quarters to rest right now.”

 _‘In that case, goodnight, Captain,’_  you hear him say, and she taps off her badge.

With one last pat on your back, she leaves sickbay, the Doctor is by your side once again.

“Does she visit everyone here?” you ask, secretly hoping she wasn’t paying you special attention.

To which the Doctor simply nods.  “Everyone. Every, single time.  And when she can she stays until they’re conscious, like she did with you.”

You shake your head, hardly believing what you’ve just discovered.  “How long was I out?” you manage.

“Six hours.”

“Six hours?” you repeat, incredulous.  “You mean to tell me the captain stayed here with me for six hours?”

“She surely did.” The Doctor confirms, working the console by your bedside.  “Lay back, would you please? I need to check your lung function.”

You do as he asks, head heavy on the pillow behind you.  “Unbelievable,” you whisper.  

“Excuse me?” the Doctor asks.  

“Nothing,” you wave off. “Never mind.”

And then you vow, right then and there, if you’re ever a commanding officer – if you ever have anyone serving under you that ends up injured - you’ll be there when they wake up.


	3. Harry & Tom - A Secret Crush  (Harry, pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be cute if you could write a fluffy ficlet of Tom teasing Harry about the crush he has on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People apparently liked the Harry x Reader stuff so there are three parts.   
> This is Part 1.

_‘Overhauls are the worst,’_  you think, hyper spanner in hand as you crawl through the never-ending Jefferies tube running through deck nine, section fifty-six Gamma.  Or is this fifty-six Delta?  

_Groan._

You stop for a minute, readjust the pads on your knees and check your position with the tricorder from your belt.   _Delta._   Dammit, you went too far.  It’s been about three hours in here, you realize, and all you really want to do is stand up to stretch. Or better yet, get out and down to the planet for some fresh air.  But that won’t be for at least another hour. So for now, a stretch will have to do.

At the end of Delta section there is a vertical tube.  You’ve already gone out of your way, another little bit and you’ll be granted the gift of a bit of space before heading back to finish that last set of inspections.

Now, what were you daydreaming about?  Oh, right. Being in here with Harry.

_Sigh._

Harry Kim.  Ensign, Harry Kim.  Fine, jet black hair.  Kind eyes. Ugh, and those forearms.  What you wouldn’t give to get those arms out of his uniform jacket and into your quarters for just a minute…

 _‘Stop it,’_  you think.  There’s very little chance he even remembers your name let alone would return your affections.  But, it is nice to daydream about.

A few more minutes of crawling – and thinking about his incredible smile, his laugh, his sense of humor – and you’ve reached the end of the tube.  The hatch opens before you and you slide down onto the platform with a thud. Arms raised stiffly above your head you stretch up, then down and twist, hearing your vertebrae respond with a set of happy cracks.

Long after you're done popping your joints you hear another noise.

Voices.

 _‘At least I’m not alone in my misery,’_ you think, remembering that there are at least thirty other crewmen trapesing around in this labyrinth with you.

You settle into working out your tight muscles a bit more; you’re just about to head back into the hollow when you can make out the loud, booming voice of Tom Paris.

“Oh, come on, Harry,” you hear him say, and your breath halts.

_Harry._

Ears finely tuned now, your head is tilted upward, straining to make out more words.

“Stop pining from afar and just say something.”

You perceive a huff and then hear, “Because, Tom. Unlike you, I don’t go chasing after every person who throws me a glance now and then.”

“It’s more than a glance now and then.  It’s  _obvious_ ,” he implores.  “We’ve all seen the smile, the electricity between you.  God, you’re gonna start a fire.”

Legs and arms reanimated again, you don’t really have an excuse to linger in the spot any longer,  _and_ you really don’t feel like hearing about Harry’s latest crush-about-to-be-turned-disaster relationship.  You gather the tools to put back on your belt and begin to head back in.  

“Why don’t you just suggest dinner together?  Or at the very least, request accompaniment for your next concerto?  You know there isn’t a better pianist onboard, surely that’s reason enough to get together.”

 _Pianist_.  The word can’t help but worm its way into your ear.  Then suddenly, one foot back into the tube, you’re wracking your brain for who else on board might play.  

“I was actually thinking about a swim,” you hear Harry mention casually.

“A swim?” Tom replies with a snort.  “You know you’ll be in a bathing suit, right?  With someone who practically swims for a living and has the body to prove it.  Hand me that, would you?  I gotta clean this contact.”

“That’s kind of what I was going for,” Harry says back lightly, as you hear tools being exchanged.

Tom laughs loudly and it booms through the shaft.  “You go for it. Make sure to suggest a race so you can get your ass kicked by the three-time academy sprint champion.  That always makes a good first date.”

 _‘Swimming,’_  you hold your hand over your mouth.   _‘Academy champ. He is talking about me!’_

Your knees feel weak and suddenly you’re overcome with the urge shout, “I’d love to go swimming with you, Harry.” But you remember that you’re not supposed to be privy to this conversation and you really, really need to leave now or you’ll throw off the whole refurb schedule.  You look dejectedly down the tube ahead of you, wanting only to climb upward instead.

“Come on,” you hear Harry say.  “This section is done.”  Then, there is the shuffling of equipment as they start to crawl away.

“Everyone should be just about finished soon,” you hear Tom remind.  “I hear there are hot springs.  I bet if you suggest a dip to you-know-who…”

“I was thinking about that,” Harry says, his voice slowly fading out of earshot, every other word perceptible now.  “Probably sore… you think…. join me there?”

“Just ask, Harry…”

 _‘Oh yes, Harry,’_  you think, hope spreading in a wide smile across your face. _‘Just ask.’_


	4. Chakotay - Singing!  (Harry, pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Chakotay catching you singing, in the Jeffries tubes, while doing maintenance repairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What better reason to sing than having overheard that Harry likes you…  
> You've got a crush on Harry, Part 2

“I’m in the mood for love, simply because you’re near me….” your melodic voice rings out clear and true through the vast tube before you.

“Wow,” you say, with a chuckle.  “I sound pretty damn good in here.”  You collect your tools back into their case and set the cover onto the bulkhead with a loud snap.

You can’t help but smile - having learned what you did an hour ago - and you continue to hum, dragging the tools behind you with a renewed vigor.  One more panel to go and you’ll be free from the tubes and free from this god-awful assignment and free to go bump into Harry in the mess hall.  And if he just-so-happens to invite you planetside with him this evening, then well?  Who are you to argue?

“Heaven is in your eyes, bright as the stars we’re under….” you continue, hearing the happy counterpoint to the melody played in your mind on a vibrant clarinet.  Your kneepad has slid its way down to your calf again and your pause to readjust it at a junction.   _Junctions have the best acoustics,_ you think.

“OH!” You bellow.  “Is it any wonder?  I’m in the mood for looooooove,” you finish with a whoop and a slap and a laugh.

And then, mortified, you realize you’re not alone.  You turn your head slowly to the right and see…

_Oh, God.  Chakotay._

“Crewman,” he says with a dimpled smile, one short bay down the passage from you.  He looks as though he’s about to laugh.

You can feel the heat instantly radiating through your cheeks as they flush.

“Uhm… Hello, sir,” you manage, straightening your severely crumpled jacket.

“Good acoustics, aren’t they?” he asks cheekily.

You nod, swallowing the embarrassment in your throat. “Uh, yes.  Yes sir, they are.”

“Sorry to intrude on your practice time,” he jokes.  “I finished this last panel, you should be all done now.”

You sit back on your heels, peek down at the work he has just done as he puts his own tools away.

“I didn’t realize you were helping out in here, sir,” you comment.

“Anything to get the job done faster.  There isn’t much for me to do on the bridge when we’re parked.”

“Yes, I guess that’s true,” you realize.

“I think a bunch of people are leaving for a hike soon, you planning to join them?”

“I don’t really have any plans,” you say, and it’s not entirely a lie.  Harry hasn’t exactly asked you out yet and you’ll be damned if you’re going to be trudging through an alien forest while he’s looking to ask you to the hot springs.

“Are you going?” you ask casually.  Then suddenly remembering your place, you add, “Sir?”

“No.  The captain has other plans for me,” he says, motioning you along with his head toward where you were planning to exit.  You try hard not to look at his backside as he crawls.  For a fleeting moment - and since your head has been basically filled to the brim with improper thoughts this afternoon - you think about just what the captain is planning with her first officer, fairly certain that if rumors are correct it’s more than just crew evaluations they’ll be  _doing_  in her quarters.

“I imagine there is still a lot of work left for you both to oversee,” you finally decide to say.

“It’s not all work,” he mutters, and somehow you can perceive tongue-in-cheek smile as he says it.  And now, you’ve reached the next junction.  

“This is where I get off,” you announce.  “Thank you for finishing that last manifold for me.”

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Crewman,” he replies with a wave from behind, not slowing down as he continues on.  The hatch opens to your left and you swing your legs out, toolbox comes next.  God, it feels good to be free from there.

You’re about to pull yourself into the main corridor when you hear the commander’s deep voice begin to sing, fading as he crawls away.  

“If there’s a cloud above, if it should rain we’ll let it.  But for tonight, forget it….”

And then you finish, laughing down the hallway, “I’m in the mood for love.”


	5. Harry - The Date (Harry, pt 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really liked that fic about Harry's crush! Please write about how the date went! *squee!*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and here it is. This ended up too long for a Tumblr post.  
> You and Harry, aww... Part 3. *Snort*  
> (thx CarlynRoth, you're awesomesauce and you know why)

This was, by far, the worst first date you’ve ever had. 

Ever.

Which is saying a lot because you’ve had some pretty awful first dates.  There was the time your sister set you up with that Bolian who spent the whole night locked in your bathroom; the Vulcan just coming off of Pon Farr; oh, and that horrible, awful little man that picked you up on Risa, tried to stick his tongue down your throat, and then you discovered he had three… Well.  No need to recount that right now.

But this first date was a completely different kind of awful.  Because you like Harry Kim.  You _really_ like him.  And, you have to see him.  Every, single day for approximately the next thirty-five years, give or take a decade.

And, as if this shit-ass situation couldn’t get any worse, you’re fairly certain everyone else on board will have heard about your disastrous evening by the time the sun rises.

You quite literally want to die.

Seriously though, death might be not be enough.  You suddenly find yourself hoping that Q or a timeship or some kind of horrible universe-eating anomaly will appear and just erase your entire existence.

But, alas.  None of those things are very likely to happen. What _is_ likely to happen, you realize - as you wait on your bunk, clutching your pillow up against your chest, knees raised into a veritable fetal position – is that any minute now you’re going to be called to see the Captain and explain yourself.

“So what happened, anyway?” you hear your roommate say coming out of the ‘fresher, dressed for bed.

“Don’t ask.”

“Didn’t go well?”

You can’t help but snort.  “’Didn’t go well’ doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

“Oh, well now I _have_ to know.”

You sigh, knowing you won’t be allowed to sleep without an explanation.  And, there’s really no going to sleep now anyway considering your butt will inevitably be hauled into the principal’s office at any moment.

“Fine,” you say.  Maybe if you reiterate the events out loud they won’t seem so bad.  Perhaps you can spin them in such a way… “As you already know, Harry caught me in the mess hall after I was done with my inspections this afternoon.  He asked me if I wanted to take a trip to the hot springs with him.”

“Yes, yes,” you’re urged along.

“Well, we met in the transporter room…”

* * *

“So,” Harry said, and you swore he looked nervous.  “Have fun in the tubes today?”

“Oh, yes,” you replied.  “Fantastic time.  It was like a party in there.”

“You’re up next,” the transporter officer informed.  “Where to?”

Harry handed him the padd with his chosen coordinates - one of the hot springs you’ve both heard so much about - then he grabbed the bag with his belongings and led you to the transporter pad.  It was odd being beamed out in sandals and a suit, you half-wished you’d done like Harry and worn regular clothes, but you really didn’t want the hassle of trying to find a place to change on the planet.  No matter, you’d be comfortable in a few minutes.  Just the thought of that nice warm water lapping gently at your tired muscles made you smile, say nothing of the company.

“Energize,” Harry ordered, flashing you a sweet smile which twinkled as you dematerialized.

The first thing you did was gasp.  The setting couldn’t have been more perfect.  Tall trees surrounded a backyard swimming pool-sized pond.  The water was an iridescent, yet oddly opaque, blue-green and reflected light from the rising moon.  And, as luck would have it, you were alone.

“It’s darker out than I expected,” Harry commented.

“Yeah, but isn’t it beautiful?” you remarked, still mildly breathless.  You inhaled deeply the scent of pine and flowers and a salty smell that reminded you of the ocean.  Your towel came unwrapped from around your waist.  With a kick off of your sandals, you executed a shallow dive into the water. 

Flipping over onto your back you began to float, the water allowed for you to be buoyant so easily, you wondered how many of your own records you could beat in an Olympic-sized pool of this mineral-laden concoction.  You had almost forgotten that you had company at all when you heard…

“Uh oh.” 

“What is it?” you asked, tilting your head up as you paddled back to him.

He continued rustling through his bag.  “I think I forgot my suit.”

“Oh…” you replied.  “You going to go back and get it?”

“I can’t.  Not unless you come with me.  Shore leave protocol for this planet –“

“We can’t be alone.  Right.”

“And you’re already wet, I won’t make you get out.”

“Why don’t you just strip down and get in?” you suggested, throwing first date caution to the wind.

“You mean… naked?”

You laughed, “Well you could leave your underwear on.”

“Oh, right,” he said, cheeks blushing once again.  “They’re um… kinda um... that is to say, I don’t wear boxers.”

 _‘Well, that answers one of my questions,’_ you thought with a raised eyebrow. 

“The water isn’t clear, it’s dark, and it’s not like I’m going to see anything I haven’t seen before.”  _‘Or that I won’t see later,’_ you thought, hopeful.  He raised his eyebrow at you and then you quickly added “I mean, not you personally, just… well, swim team and all that.  You know what, just get in, would you?”

“Ok, but don’t look.”

You turn your head as he maneuvered his back to you and presumably stripped down to tighty-whities.  When you heard him splash, you looked back around.

“There,” you stated.  “Was that so bad?”

He shook his head, flinging the water from his jet-black hair until it rose upward in damp spikes.

“This feels amazing!” he said, floating on his stomach, head lifted.  You fought hard not to check out his butt as it broke above the surface.

“Oh,” you said, feeling at the bottom with your feet.  “I think I found where the spring is.”

He paddled over to you, putting his own feet down to touch.  “There are bunches of them,” he noted.

You pushed off toward him and with a few strokes drew yourself near then forced your feet back down to the bottom, natural buoyancy making it harder than normal to stand.

“I keep floating,” you laughed.

“So do I.  Here, hang on to me,” he offered, and who were you to decline?  You took his hand and allowed yourself to be pulled in when suddenly something about the pool shifted.  The natural hot water jets below began to bubble furiously, propelling you both closer and making it impossible to stand. 

“Oh!” you shouted. 

“What’s happening?” he asked back over the roar of the rushing, bubbling water. 

“I don’t know but it’s really strange!”

With another gush of water you found yourself in his arms.  The heat from the water now overtaking most everything and the feel of being so close to him, in so little clothing, caused you to take complete leave of your senses.  Wrapped in his strong embrace you dared to look into his eyes.  Reflected in the moonlight was a glimmer of desire and you lifted yourself up slightly, brushing lips… skin on skin…  It was going to be the most amazing moment –

“GET OUT!!!!!”

Startled you both jumped away from each other.  And as you did so, a very important piece of your suit got snagged on his thumb, inadvertently untying… well.  You didn’t have much ability to try and fix it especially considering someone in the shadows was still shouting.

“GET OUT! GET OUT! -  Oh, Praise the Holy - G E T  O U T!”

Frantically you both made your way back to the shore, you without a key part of your swimming attire, and Harry without ever having had proper attire in the first place. 

Always the gentleman, Harry lunged for the bag of towels and threw one to you before you became completely exposed.

At the shore you were met with a very angry looking man in heavy robes carrying a lit tiki-style torch in one hand and a book in the other.

“I’m… um… we’re so, so sorry, sir,” Harry began, shrouding the best part of himself in a towel.  “What’s the problem?”

“What is the problem?!” the man repeated.  He kneeled down and touched his forehead to the ground and began to hum loudly.  You looked to Harry and shrugged.

“Sir?” Harry tried again. 

“Hush, fool!” he bit back.

“Hey!” you shouted, becoming more irate at the interruption by the second.  “Don’t talk to him like that.  Now, tell us what’s wrong?  Why are you so upset with us?”

After another moment of chanting, the man rose, straightened his garb and looked you square in the eye.  “You can’t be here now.  Not at the Provider of Life!  And certainly not during the Spurting Time."

“The Provider of Life?” Harry asked, a bit incredulous.

“Spurting Time?” you added, trying but failing miserably to hide your 'you've got to be shitting me' laugh.  "So that explains the jets, I guess," you nudge to Harry.

“Offworlders,” the man spat.  “I am the High Priest of the K’nai Monastery.  This is our most sacred pool.  The spring that runs below it channels into all of the other pools on this section of the planet.”  The man turned to look at you directly, leaning in on his next words, “All of the _other_ pools that people are _allowed_ to swim in.  And you, of course you'd pick the one time of year when they're in their refilling cycle.”

“We’re very sorry, sir,” you replied. “We had no idea that this one was off-limits.”

“Yes, yes you did.  Don’t add lying to your list of ignorant offenses.  When your ship arrived we gave your Captain Janeway a detailed index of locations that you could visit and the approved activities which could be enjoyed there.  This location was _not_ on the list, and neither was the activity in which you were about to partake.“

Harry drew a deep breath.  “I apologize, High Priest.  I was the one that selected this location and I should have double checked that it was okay.  We only wanted somewhere more private to go.”

“Yes, yes.  So you could do your _private_ things, I know.  Next time try a room.”

You were just about to refute his claims when Harry put his hand on your arm.  “You know what?  We said we’re sorry and now we’re going to leave.”

“Leave then!” the Priest shouted as you gathered your things.  “But I’ll be speaking with your Captain.  There will be a penance to pay for this insolence!”

* * *

“Woah,” your roommate breathes, perceiving the end of your story.

“Yeah,” you reply dryly. “I could barely look Harry in the eye.  God, he was so embarrassed.  I practically ran from the transporter room.”

“So, now what?”

_~Janeway to Crewman, report to my quarters at once.~_

You sigh, then roll your head to look at your roommate again.  “Now, we get to put this awful night in my official file,” you say, pointing to the ceiling with dread.

* * *

“Would either of you like to hazard a guess as to where I spent the last hour?” Janeway asks, coming to rest with her hip on the side of her desk.  Her uniform jacket has been unzipped and you notice she looks both very annoyed and very tired. 

Your immediate thought is.  _No.  Hell no.  I’m not saying a word._

Harry, who is standing at perfect attention beside you, clears his throat.  “With the High Priest of the K’nai Monastery?”

You close your eyes silently, telepathically willing him to shut his mouth.

“With the High Priest of the K’nai Monastery,” she repeats, laying into each word.  “Trying to explain why two members of my crew were caught fornicating in their sacred pool.”

“Captain,” Harry chokes.  “We weren’t –“

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand.  “I don’t need to know the details, Ensign.  I already know way more than I would like to.”

Where you have been silent up until this point, you suddenly feel the need to defend yourself. 

“Captain,” you begin, then gaining her attention, you continue softly.  “I think I speak for both of us when I say, we meant no disrespect to that holy place.  If we had known we never would have gone near it, let alone…”

She nods and lets out a long sigh. “Of course you wouldn’t have, Crewman.  I know you both better than that by now.  You were negligent in paying attention to your surroundings, inattentive when it came to respecting the approved shore-leave area.  But, when we’re planet-side I expect my officers to be more respectful of local customs and landmarks, and to double-check their beam down coordinates.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you both agree, casting glances downward. 

“Now,” she says, sliding off of her desk.  Turning behind her while she talks, she gathers two padds and taps them in her palm.  “I haven’t the energy to reprimand you further and I expect that embarrassment may be punishment enough at this point, however, I did promise the High Priest penance for this so-called breach of decorum.”  She hands you each one of the devices and you begin to thumb through it.

“There are surveys of the hot springs that need to be done on twice-yearly basis.  It keeps the monks from their meditation and apparently that’s a bother.  So, tomorrow, you’ll be the ones doing the surveys.  You’ll visit each location, monitor the temperature and record the acidity of the water.  You’ll report whether the local flora and fauna are encroaching on the banks of the water and take pictures where you think grounds keeping needs to be performed.  There are a few other things too, you’ll need to personally survey the depths of each pool.  Please, take your suits _this time_ ,” she glares.  “The checklists are there, if you have any questions, ask the High Priest when you report to him tomorrow at 0900.”  She sighs, a coy smile playing over her lips, then with a flippant wave says, “You’re both dismissed.”

Eyes wide, still trying to comprehend exactly what has transpired, you nod and tuck the padd safely under your arm. 

“Oh, and Ensign?  Crewman?” she says as you’re on your way out.  You suddenly pray to whatever spirits you interrupted earlier that she doesn’t mention fornication again.

“Per our shore leave guidelines, you’ll need to stick together.  No dividing up to make the job faster.  Your maintenance duties will be rescheduled to other members of the crew tomorrow.  Be sure to thank them when you return.”

“Yes ma’am,” you both reply, and then the door mercifully slides shut behind you.

* * *

“Did the captain just order us to spend the entire day tomorrow touring the hot springs… together?” you ask, incredulous and finally daring to look at him.

Harry laughs, “I think she did.”

“Instead of being crammed in the Jefferies tubes?”

“Uh huh,” he says, smacking you on the back.  The wide grin that has spread across his face makes you want to do nothing but kiss him like you had come so close to doing earlier.

He offers you his arm and you take it with little hesitation.  Truth be told, you’re more than happy to be escorted to the ‘lift.  As you walk, you pass by Commander Chakotay’s door.  He exists, dressed casually, a bottle of some kind of exotic looking liquor in one hand and a rose in the other.  He gives you a wink as he passes by, headed straight back from where you just came.  

You glance over your shoulder and watch him disappear down the corridor.  And you’d swear he was still humming the tune from earlier.

“Harry,” you ask, eyes tracing back to his.  “Did we just interrupt…”

He laughs again and it’s the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard.  “I think we did.”

You take a deep breath and relax with him, sighing into his side as you settle into the turbolift.  “So, maybe that wasn’t the worst date I’ve ever had,” you admit.

“It’s one of the best I’ve had,” Harry replies with a sly snort.

“And, we get to try again tomorrow.”

“We do.”

Side by side you ride the ‘lift.  It’s just about to reach your deck when he blurts out, “Computer, halt.”  A surge of adrenaline courses through you while you wait for him to make the next move.  “I’m really sorry about… well, everything,” he admits softly.

You shrug, “These things happen.  Next time we’ll know better.  And, I’m not sorry about _everything_.”

“You’re not?” he asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Of course not.  I’m glad we get a do-over tomorrow.”

“I was kind of hoping for one tonight,” he admits, reaching out a hand to gently caress your cheek.  His warm palm slides along the nape of your neck and he pulls you in close.  His lips, when they finally meet yours are sweet and warm. 

“Computer,” you breathe, pulling away slightly.  “Resume lift.”

You exit on your deck a moment later.  Stepping out into the corridor you sneak one last peek at him waving goodnight while the door slides shut.

“Definitely not the worst date I’ve ever had.”


	6. Janeway - Something Smells Off

 

You drag yourself into the lift at deck eleven, grimy and gritty and covered in sweat.  Once there, you realize that the pungent smell which has been permeating your nostrils for the last hours – the unmistakable stench of contaminated gel packs – has leeched into to every fiber of your uniform, not to mention your skin and hair.  With a silent prayer, you ask for a straight shot to deck five so as to not subject anyone to what amounts to olfactory torture.

The lift whirrs and you’re moving upward.  Deck Eleven, Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven - almost there.  

And then, you come to a stop.

You curse under your breath and shift awkwardly to the back, praying harder than you’ve ever prayed in your life that it’s not the cute ensign from Astrometrics about to enter your little garbage car.  

Both to your relief, and your chagrin, it’s not that adorable person with the blonde hair and freckles – it’s the Captain.  

You greet her with a smile, hoping that if nothing else the current state of your clothing will earn you a merit point.

She smiles back, nods and stutters something akin to “Lieutensign” and then orders to the lift to take her to “Deck Fun.”

When the computer bleeps a request to repeat that destination she swears under her breath and says, more carefully this time, “Deck One.  Bridger.”

Something is very wrong.

You clear your throat and realize that the most pungent smell in the lift is no longer you.

“Captain?” you ask, hesitantly.  

“Mmm?” She leans against the side of the car.  “Oooh,” then she snaps her fingers.  “Stop.”

With one eye, you regard her.  “Stop?”

“Halt,” she says, more harshly this time.

“Computer, halt lift,” you clarify.

“Thank you, Lieuten…” she cranes her neck to see your rank insignia.  “Crewperson.”  So much for those bonus points.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.   The way she’s weaving is starting to make you feel like you’ve had a couple of whatever she’s quite recently shot back.  

“You ordered the lift to halt, ma’am.”

“Oh.  Right.  I forgot something.”  She looks to the floor and begins to tilt hard to port, so you take her by the side of the arm and right her again.  

Then, she turns, looks you straight in the eye and says.  “You.  Do not smell good.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, ma’am.  I was repairing the contaminated –“  And she’s lost all interest in what you’re saying.

“Bridge!” she orders again. “Time to get going home, isn’t it?  We’ve been out here much too long.”

“Computer, belay that,” you say.  The lift stops again.  “Captain, I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem to be feeling very well.”

“I feel fine-tastic,” she spits.  

“How was the party?” you ask, hoping to stall for time.  Though you’d need all night for her to sober to the point that she would be in an appropriate state to enter the bridge.

“Good, good.  We closed the deal with the Bavarians.” She slaps you on the shoulder.  “You were there.”

You bite your lip.  “I believe they’re call the Bahra’veen.”

“Fine group of people, just fine.  Make a really good punch.”

“You entertained them on the holodeck, right?”

“Mm.  Are we on the bridge yet?”

“Captain, I’m going to say this as nicely as I can.  You’re very drunk.  I can’t let you go to the bridge. And you might reprimand me in the morning, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

She sticks up her hand, points a crooked finger at you and then pokes you in the chest.  “You know what?  You’re right.”

“I am?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

You can’t argue with that.  “Okay, then let’s just get you back to your quarters and into bed, shall we?”

“Smart.  You’re smart.”  She taps her own forehead.  “Bed is what I need.  Remind me to promote you.”

“Oh, I will,” you say.  “Computer deck three, no stops.  Engineering override Alpha-four-six.”

She’s leaning on you now, swaying gently again and you keep your eyes plastered forward.  Mercifully, when the doors open there is no one around to witness the display that will be getting her down the hallway.

“Fafter you,” she mumbles.

“How about we go together?” And thankfully she takes your arm without further argument.

It’s another thirty meters or so until you reach her door at the end of the corridor. That’s when you realize, she’s going to have to be coherent enough to remember her access code.  Again you find yourself in silent prayer.  But this time you have a backup plan.  Commander Chakotay is just two doors down.  If need be, you can comm him for help.

“Okay, Captain.  You have to put your code in so we can get you to bed.  Do you remember your code?”

“This isn’t where I sleep,” she says with an odd amount of confidence.  “I thought you were taking me to where I sleep.”

“These are your quarters,” I say, double checking the nameplate and your sanity.

She grins and you think you’ve never seen a better impression of the Cheshire cat in your life.

She leans in close and whispers with a giggle, “I have a secret.  Promise you won’t tell?”

“Okay…”

“I sleep down there.” And she points two doors down and across the hall.

_Oh. God._

Before you have a chance to come to grips with what this really means, she’s darted away from you and is rushing for Chakotay’s door.  When did she become so agile?

“Captain, wait,” you shout. But it’s too late, she’s begun tapping on the entry pad.  You reach her and pull her hand away as gently, but quickly, as you can.  “I really think it would be best if you –“

The door slides open.

“Commander,” you say, jolting to attention.  Your nose has chosen this very moment to remind you that you still stink like a pile of dirty diapers.  “The um, the Captain here…”

She brushes past him, into his living room and disappears.  He barely acknowledges that she’s gone into his quarters.  Instead, he’s focused in on you and it’s all you can do to ignore that he’s shirtless and in pajama pants.  “She’s not feeling very well.  She was trying to go to the bridge after the party with the Bahra’veen and I just thought –“

“You did well, Crewman,” he praises softly.  

“I didn’t want her to make a –“

“Chakotay!” You hear her shout from deep inside his quarters.  “Your bed is so cold!  Come keep me warm!”

“- scene.”

The commander bites his bottom lip and nods, then chuckles.  “Thank you for taking care of her.  I knew I should have stayed at that party.”  

You’re now aware that you haven’t blinked, swallowed, or quite possibly breathed, in at least two minutes.

“I, um…” he motions awkwardly back inside.  

“Yes.  You’d better.”

“Please –“ he begins, softly.

And you raise your hand, stopping him mid-thought.  You’ve seen enough for one night and you know better than to talk about it.

“Thanks.” 

The door swishes closed behind him.

You let go of a heavy sigh, shake away whatever the hell it was that just happened, and head back to the turbolift.  

“Deck five,“ you say, now completely drained of all your faculties.

At deck four, the lift stops.  You curse that you didn’t use that override again, or better yet, a site to site transport.  That’s how you’re going to travel from now on you think, just as the cute ensign from Astrometrics with the blonde hair and freckles joins you.  He flashes you a smile, takes a whiff and tries not to gag.

“I know.  I reek.”

“It’s, uh.  It’s not that bad.”

You shake your head.  “You should have the Doctor check your nose.” Then you leave him, and finally, mercifully, reach your destination.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for Khurst with the prompt: Imagine you're in the turbolift when an inebriated Janeway gets in and wants to go to the bridge. Dutybound to keep your Captain's honor intact, you offer to escort her to her quarters. Sabotage: She tried to get into Chakotay's quarters, thinking they are hers and claiming she always sleeps here and you're trying to convince her to go to her own quarters, when the doors slide open..


	7. Chakotay - Sleeping In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine oversleeping and Chakotay has to come wake you.

Your alarm has been going off for at least an hour.  Somewhere deep inside your bones you’ve felt the vibrations.  Several times over you’ve told the computer to shut the hell up and add ten more minutes, but you did it in such a fog that you can’t really be sure it wasn’t a dream.  

The last time, you turned off the reminders completely.  That part was definitely real.

Fatigue wracks every part of your being on this day.  It’s been too many mornings of 0600 wake up calls.  Too many nights of extended shifts.  Too many months without shore leave.  Too many years without home.

If someone on this godforsaken vessel really needs you to report to duty, they can come get you in person.

 _Yes.  In person,_  you think.  Let Chief Torres or Captain Janeway care enough about the fact that you’re late to key in an override and drag you to your station in your pajamas.  Or, better yet, Commander Chakotay.   Crew issues are his responsibility, you remember. Let him come reprimand you.   _Put me on report,_ you dare him.   _This is really his fault, after all._

 _My record is pristine,_  you think with a yawn.   _I deserve another hour._   And your eyes drift closed once again.

* * *

You don’t notice your combadge chirp repeatedly, nor do you hear the door chime.  But what you do perceive is that something has changed in the room around you. In the pitch black you know that you’re no longer alone.    _Well, hot damn.  Someone did care enough to come get me,_ you think.   _I wonder who -_

“Computer.” The voice is deep and soft.  “Lights at twenty-five percent.”  

And now you know who has come.  You moan and pull the cover over your head dramatically.

“Hey, you alright under there?” His concern is obvious and for just a moment you feel badly for having worried him.

“Fine.  I’m just tired.”

“Ah…”  

The side of your bed dips slightly and you know he’s sitting beside you now.  His warmth radiates out, seeping into your covers.  The next thing you feel is a strong hand stroking your back.

“It’s not like you to be late,” he says.  “In fact, I’m not sure you’ve ever missed a duty shift.”

“I haven’t,” you say into the fabric.

“Then what’s happened? Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Maybe I should get the Doctor…” 

The very sincere disquiet in his voice makes your heart skip a beat.  The man cares deeply, it’s one of the things you love about him.  Having his undivided attention is a wonderful feeling, but suddenly you only want to assure him that you’re alright.

With a swish and a grin, you throw back the covers.  In another swift movement, you’ve grabbed him by the front of his jacket - taking him by surprise and off-balance - which makes it easy to yank him on top of you.

Your lips crash onto his and he gasps, then succumbs.  His momentary shock subsides and he smiles into the kiss, deepening it.  Your hands work along the taut muscles of his upper back while his find their way on either side of you.  You hook his shoulders and he’s moved all the way on top of you now, straddling your waist, controlling things as he loves to do.

Panting, he pulls his mouth from yours.  “So you really are okay then?”

“Chakotay. I told you, I’m fine,” you smile.  “I just wasn’t properly woken up.”

“I’m sorry, Love,” he says, laying another peck on your forehead.  “I had that early meeting and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Mm hm,” you smile mischievously.  

“You really aren’t a morning person,” he explains further.

“But?”

He hesitates and then grins. “You’re a good late-night person.”

“Ha!  Smooth.”  You raise yourself up slightly in hopes of continuing what you had started, but he pulls away.

“Seriously though, we’re both on duty.”

“I know,” you sigh, flopping back.  “I’m sorry. I’ve put you in an awkward position.”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking down to the way he’s still pinning you to the bed.  “I wouldn’t say awkward, exactly…”

You push your hands against his chest and he moves aside.  “The Chief is probably furious with me.”

“She was just concerned, like I was.  Make up the hour at the end of shift and all will be forgiven.”  You reach for your trousers and pull them on while he fetches your boots.  “But,” he warns with a stern finger, “don’t do that again, ok?”

“Not for at least another six years,” you mock, then seeing he’s not amused, you add a very sincere, “I won’t, I promise.”

“Good.”  He hands you your jacket.  “We all have days like this, next time request a few hours off.”

“You’re right.  I will,” you agree, putting on the garment.  “You know, I’ll probably be relegated to cleaning deuterium manifolds for this.”

“Likely.”

You affix your combadge. “There’s a lot of crouching and crawling and squeezing into tight places with that job.”

“Indeed.”  He walks you from your bedroom while you pull your hair up.

“Which means I’ll be really sore later.”

He grins.  “You’re not very subtle.”  

You shrug.  “Never was my strong suit.”

“I’ll bring the massage oil, and dinner,” he says with a smile.  “But otherwise we’re taking it easy tonight, I can’t be the reason you oversleep again.”

“Deal,” you acquiesce, offering him a hand to shake.  He kisses you gently instead.

Exiting to the hallway, you turn left and he turns right.  After a few steps, he calls after you.  “Make sure you stop by the mess hall before you report, Ensign. B’Elanna doesn’t need her staff showing up late  _and_  hungry.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Ariella884 who was basically writing her own version of this in a chat earlier.


	8. Kathryn - Special Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine a member of the Command team comes to you with a personal request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a while ago, put it on Tumblr and totally forgot to archive it. Oops. Thanks Angrywarrior69 for making me dig it up.

You’ve got an incredible looking dinner in front of you, the computer is playing relaxing music, your boots and jacket have been kicked off for the night.  You’ve been saving your replicator rations all week because today, today is your father’s birthday.  And on your father’s birthday there is always a fantastic spread.  Today is not a day for eating Neelix’s cooking, no sir. Today is a day for spanakopita and pilaf and a gigantic piece of baklava for dessert.   

It’s all hot out of the replicator and it smells absolutely divine.

You’re just about to sink your fork into the flaky layers of filo when your door chimes.

Maybe, if you ignore it whoever it is will just go away.  You freeze, waiting... knowing you won't possibly be so lucky.

And it chimes again.

With a frown you shoot one last, despondent look to the dinner which will have to wait.

“Come in,” you say, trying your best to mask annoyance.   _Whoever this is better be on fire_ , you think.

Then, in the doorway is the absolute last person you ever expected to see.

“Captain Janeway!” you practically yell in shock.  You leap backward from your chair and barely keep your food from flying across the table when you knock the plate with your arm.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks softly.

“No!” you answer quickly. “I mean, no, ma’am.”  You’re straight now, at attention.

“Please, Ensign,” she says with a hand in the air.  “This is your home, not mine.  At ease.”

With a steadying breath you relax a bit and wave her in, extremely grateful that you took the time to clean up your pile of dirty laundry this morning.

“I’m interrupting your dinner,” she observes.  “I’ll come back later.”

“No, Captain.  It’s fine, really.  What can I do for you?”

She’s inside all of the way now and she’s glancing briefly around your quarters.  You’d be damned but she looks uncomfortable.

“I’ve come to ask you a personal favor.”

“A favor?  From me?”

“Yes.  I’ve heard that you sometimes… well, that is…” and now, you can’t believe it but she actually does look nervous before she lifting her chin to say, “I hear you cut people’s hair.  From time to time.”

You feel a broad grin grace your lips.  “I do.  About a dozen of the women on the ship come to me, actually.  And a few of the men.”

“Where did you learn?” 

“My father was a barber… is a barber.  Today is his birthday, actually.  He insisted we all learn.”

She nods her approval, apparently your credentials are valid enough for what you suspect she’s come for.  “I was wondering, would you cut my hair?”

A quick glance to the fragrant dinner you abandoned on the table and you’re agreeing to something you never expected.  

Just minutes later she’s seated in your chair, her long, auburn locks damp with the mist from your spray bottle and you’re combing through them.  “How short do you want it?”

“Shoulder length, I think,” she replies.  “It doesn’t matter, really.  I just… I don’t want it long anymore.  Whatever you think would look nice.”

As you thread the strands through your fingers you realize just how long it really is.  Often tucked up in a bun or wound around a clip, you wonder if she’s even trimmed it more than a couple centimeters since being lost out here.   Truth-be-told you’ve always admired the captain’s hair.  There is something so effeminate about it, so… human.  You begin to wonder why it is that she’s choosing to cut it now.  

And then, the thought enters your mind that there might be more to this than just ease of a morning routine.  Words that your father used to mutter ring through your head,  _‘A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.’_

“Captain,” you say softly, readying your scissors on your fingers.  “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

She jerks her head to look at you.  Then she settles back with her eyes focused once again out your viewport as you realign your scissors.  “Why do you ask?”

Your first cut is rough, and slices away at a bulk of hair.  She’s been holding her breath, you realize, and with the first snip she releases it.  The clump falls to the floor.  

“Sometimes, I’ve found, people make a drastic change in their hairstyle to reflect a change in their personal life.  Either something has happened to them and they’re moving on, or they’re trying to start anew.  And it’s none of my business, but if you’d like to talk, the barber’s chair is a good place to do it.  At least, that’s what my father always said.”

“I appreciate that offer, but I really don’t want to talk about it.  It's just a haircut.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

The rest of her appointment progresses in silence.  With comb and scissors you work through the years of growth with ease, but each punctuated slice seems to make her tense even more.  

When you’re done with making sure the back is straight, you walk around to her front and stoop down on the balls of your feet, carefully, you pull both sides that frame her face and even them up.  For a moment, you catch her eyes.  They’re dark. Forlorn.

And you hope it’s not regret that you see, either for the haircut or the event that brought her to have the haircut in the first place.

She continues to sit, still as a statue and studying the stars while you brush off her neck.

“I’m done cutting now,” you inform her.  “Have you ever had short hair?  Would you like me to show you how to style it?”

She swallows hard.  “It’s been a long time, actually.  But I hate to delay your dinner any further.”

“It’s not a problem, I’ll be right back,” you tell her, and you disappear into your ‘fresher for a moment to get the sonic-dryer and a bit of product.

“You can wear it straight down, or curl it under a bit,” you say returning to where she hasn’t moved even a centimeter.  “Do you have a round brush like this?” you ask, showing her yours.

“No…”

“You can have mine,” you say.  “I never use it.”

She takes it from your outstretched hand.  “It’s beautiful,” she remarks, looking at the opalescent handle.  

“My dad gave me that,” you say with a smile.  “Along with the scissors and comb.  He told me never to be without them, that I’d always be useful if I could cut hair.  He apparently never thought much for the usefulness of my biology career, but, hey,” you shrug.

“I can’t take this,” she refuses, handing it back to you.

“Yes, you can.  I want you to have it, please,” you insist.  “Something new for a new start,” you chance.  "Or, a new haircut... whichever it may be."

She nods quietly, and you’re granted the only sliver of a smile you’ve seen so far this evening.  “Thank you.”

A few moments later and your lesson is done, her hair framing her face nicely.  She looks different, and yet…

“Do you like it?” you ask, handing her the mirror one final time.

“I think it will take some getting used to, but yes.”  Then she glances to the mess on the floor and your table, dinner sitting idle.

“I appreciate this, Ensign. I really do.  I just didn’t want to go to the holographic stylist.”

“I completely get it. That guy’s a jerk,” you say with a smile.  And she finally laughs.  

“Please, order a new dinner on my account,” she offers, rising from her chair.

You shrug, “All I really wanted was the dessert anyway and it’s still good.  Want to split it with me?  You’ve had my father’s haircut, it’s only fair you try my mother’s pastry.”

At that she breaks into a full grin.  “I’d love some.”

**Author's Note:**

> These Imagines - that insert the reader into the daily lives of the crew - are one of my favorite things to write. I'm always in search of good prompts. Please don't hesitate to find me on Tumblr @jhelenoftrek or leave me a comment here if you have a request.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Imagine... it's your birthday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954012) by [Killermanatee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killermanatee/pseuds/Killermanatee)




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